Revolved
by LoveKricket
Summary: You never know how strong you are…until being strong is the only choice you have.  A couple of the Gleeks just caught up late one night. And not in a good way.
1. Metal Frames from Hell

**Revolved **

**Chapter One: Metal Frames from Hell**

Kurt Hummel x Noah Puckerman x Rachel Berry

Rated T for mature situations.

I love Reviews. Being as this is my first FanFic, I would appreciate _constructed_ criticism, and love. :P

I don't own Glee, or any character. Only my poor writing abilities.

**You never know how strong you are…until being strong is the only choice you have.**

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You know that cold and empty feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you're extraordinarily scared? Not for yourself, but for someone else?

Well, I guess I'm getting a little ahead of myself. How about starting at the beginning:

I remember it being cold for August, the icy wind biting my exposed skin. We had taken Puck's beat up old truck. My dad had run short of a few things for dinner tonight, so he asked me and Puck to grab them for tonight.

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"Do you have the list?" he asked, nervously playing with the hem of his shirt. And that wasn't anything Kurt Hummel did lightly. But in the presence of one Mr. Puckerman, it was all he could do to keep his voice from shaking with anticipation.

"I don't need the list."

He smirked and rolled his eyes, looking out the window at the rain that pounded against the red paint with frantic _pitter-patters_. "Pa-lease. You can hardly remember the day of the week!"

"We're having a BBQ. Ketchup, Mustard, hot dog buns, Smokies…"

"Okay. You're right. You can probably remember everything. Maybe." Don't worry; he knew how it sounded, a BBQ, in the rain. Well, that was Finn and his fathers job; setting up the tarp that was supposed to keep them dry. He really doubted that it would work, but he would be a team player and go along with it.

Of course they had bugged him for saying this, because even on the football team, he wasn't much of a team player. In Glee, it seemed, to anyone who didn't know him, that he was only interested in the solo's that were rightfully his.

"Kurt?"

He looked back to his friend, smiling, "Yes?"

Green-Blue eyes met deep chocolaty, lust filled ogles and Kurt felt moisture leap to the delicate skin of his palms. He past a quick lick of nervous lips, and eyes darted down to follow the tongue. Sneaking kisses. Who knew? Noah Puckerman: Closeted Homo. Well, technically, Bi…homo?

"N-never mind." He smiled and turned back to look out side. He, Kurt Hummel was making Puck nervous. Stuttering Tina-like nervous. How precious!

The truck eased to a stop, and they simultaneously threw open the doors and slid into the cold water. Meeting at the hood of the truck, Puck placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him slightly ahead of the Jewish teen, as if to shelter him from the pounding rain.

"Whoa. It's like, deserted in here!" Puck commented, scanning the store quickly. There were only five people on the floor, dripping through the aisles and filling up carts with bags of goodies for the planned rain in the days to come.

Smiling, Kurt headed over to the line of carts and pulled one out, quickly rounding it to face the first aisle. They walked in silence, Puck's warmth just center of the row filling Kurt with a deep blush, humming slightly under his breath and using a hand to adjust the ball cap in his back pocket. Something working in the garage required.

Stopping to look over the products, he stepped away from the cart, tipping his head to the side, pondering. Whole-wheat? Or white? Snorting, he pulled out the bag of white buns, like his family would eat anything partially healthy.

"White? I was going to go with the grain-y one…" Puck whispered in his ear, placing a smile and a flutter throughout the small soprano.

"Rebecca! Jonathan! Come _back!_" an exhausted mother called out, sighing at the end and watching her two children skip down the aisle, chocolate bars in hand and filling the quiet with chiming giggles.

Kurt placed the buns into the cart and continued down section, glancing half-heartedly and the Twinkies. As if reading his mind, Puck pushed a muscular arm in front of Kurt's face, leaning over and allowed the teen to be engulfed in the manly mint smell and the moment of arms brushing as the Twinkies were placed in the crisscrossing metal of the cart.

Is this what it would feel like? Ten years from now? Grocery shopping for his family. Not having to talk because they knew what the other wanted, happily exchanging glances and brushes of skin. The giggling took months of his porcelain skin, filling Kurt with a child-like happiness he hadn't felt since his mother past away.

They turned the corner, nodding politely at the mother at the end of the store who was glowering at the still merry kids. Greeting a middle aged man with sharp, angular cheeks and rusty orange hair. Kurt was too caught up in his vision for the future to notice the haunted look in the darkened eyes.

That is, until jab in his side and a finger point in his vision. Kurt glanced around, finally locating their target. "Oh, I'm going to go invite her over!"

"Kurt."

"Will you get the other stuff for me?"

Puck wheeled the cart into the corner, between a wall of bread and a rake of cake, out of view from everyone. Well, all of the seven customers and two cashiers anyways. "Kurt, don't make me put up with her tonight. Please."

"Puck, she's _dating_ my brother. I'm inviting her!"

Puck inched closer, pushing himself between Kurt and the cart, his breath tickling onto the pale cheek of his partner. "Kurt."

"Puck." Years of musical lessons-singing especially, kept his breath even and deep, even in this _situation_. Puck pouted and leaned down brushing his nose, fluttering his lashes. "No." Soft lips, but a quick withdraw. "You're petty kisses convince me." Kurt brushed by, sliding his shoulder across the shaped chest and back into the store. "Finish shopping, I'll go talk to that pretty young lady."

He flounced away, crossing through the sections and into the cooler area. It was cold inside the store for ten at night, but it was freezing in the frozen section. He clutched the Louis Vuitton coat closer to his small frame and pushed to the short brunette at the soy-cheese.

He trailed his fingers up her arm and smiled when she let out a shriek and spun to face him. "Hey beautiful!" Okay, he would emit it, calling Rachel *star* Berry that, was not, under _any _circumstances something he usually did. But he was caught up in the moment. And they had sort of become friends. She was the one person who about his and Noah's…relations. Having gay fathers gave her a great perspective.

"Kurt Hummel! What are you doing here?"

"Just shopping around," he casually reached down and plucked a block of cheese out of the empty cart, "Is this actually good?"

Rachel looked up from the box of organic crackers she was inspecting and sheepishly at the cheese, "Oh, they're an acquired taste, did you want to come over for dinner and try it?"

"Actually, that's why I'm over here."

"Oh? I'm sure my fathers would love you over."

"Actually, we having a barbeque, Tina and Artie are stopping by, I think Mikes coming, because Mercedes is. So I figure we might as well make sure Finn's not all alone in the couples' party."

"Oh! Well I was-"

Kurt watched as Rachel's thin lips moved and her tongue slid across her lips. As her hands grabbed onto his shoulders and she pulled them to the ground. They huddled together and shook from the interruption.

"Was that a-?"

"Gun shot? I think so," admitting it was hard, expectably as the lights winked out and the store became an echoing cave of despair. What scared Kurt the most was the scream of pain from a woman and the quiet of that, hollow thump from an unmoving body.

Kurt inched farther away from Rachel, squeezing her hand tighter for every centimeter that distanced between them.

From around the edge of the dented cooler, he took a millisecond to scan and back up again. Heart thumping to his throat and hands shaking with horror, he glanced back to the aisle.

A single lady, eyes open in horror and perfect circle of a bullet hole through the parted bangs. Kurt's quick eyes took in the scene, struggling to look past the empty pupils and the rapidly pooling blood to the shopping cart that was two feet away from the body, filled with buns and condiments.

He placed a fist to his mouth, biting down on his knuckles as his sad blue eyes found a box of Twinkies that had spilled over the edge of the cold metal, landing next to a dirty, red and white baseball cap. Without the light, he could just make out the black embroidery that snaked up the seams and the too familiar 20 that was etched into the back.

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	2. Shock to the System

**Revolved**

**Chapter Two: Shock to the System**

This is it chickies! Chapta TWO!

I know, I shouldn't be so happy. I know.

And OMG! Thanks for all the favorites and follows! It made my day every time I checked my email! I LOVE YOU GUYS! I just hope I can live up the expectations…

Review? Thanks!

I hardly own Glee, other than the various artifacts I've been buying and hoarding in my not-so-secret shrine.

**You never know how strong you are…until being strong is the only choice you have.**

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The whisper was barely audible to his own ears, but he said it none the less. The word, no- the name circled through the cold air, and the puff of heat in the temperature quickly faded, but the name rang through his head over and over and over again.

Why hadn't they just gone to Rachel together? Why did he have to send him to finish the shopping? Now there was no way of knowing if he was alright or not, what if he was lying, bleeding in a pool of his own blood. Dying, without someone there to hold his hand.

A cold hand clamped around his mouth and they shrugged back into the cold metal. "Kurt, be _quiet_!" The hiss brought him back to his surroundings.

Salty tears leaked to his cheek, and he didn't even care enough to wipe them roughly from his cheek, letting them meet under his small chin instead and drip to his jean clad knees.

"Rach. What if he's-what if..." he didn't want to say it. If he did, and it was true, wouldn't it be his own fault?

They could hear one of the cashiers crying, but the noise as the till clicked open, and the rustle of paper, and then the clink of change. He just could _not_ believe this was happening! They were just supposed to be gathering dinner. And now Puck was dead!

"Kurt!" Rachel shook his shoulders again, slamming him back to the present. "Did you hear me? There was only one shot! And obviously …. That lady…that poor l-lady!"

One shot? That couldn't be right. Because if there was only one shot…and, like Rachel said, that lady she was the one shot. That meant….

_Oh my god_, he had to find Puck! "Rachel, I have to find Puck…let go of me!"

Rachel had latched onto his hand, gripping it painfully tight and leaving harsh red nail marks every time she repositioned. "You can't! Can't leave me here!"

"Let go of me!" Kurt rolled his shoulder and attempted to pull away, but the hysterical girl just shook her head and allowed more tears to pour down her flushed cheeks. "Look, I'm going, so you can come with me, or you can stay here by yourself!"

As he made to stand, Kurt was surprised to find Rachel retract her hands and wipe her cheeks off. Thin eyebrows arched as the girl made to stand and hunch over so her thin body was shaded by the low cooler.

She offered Kurt a worried half-smile and motioned him to lead. Now that he was free, he found that he felt hollow and cold, so he reached back before tiptoeing forward and interlaced their fingers.

That done, he slid forward and craned his neck to look past the cooler. The moment of exposure as he crossed the distance between the current cooler and the next left him shaking and out of breath.

They could always turn back, stay safe hidden in the cold metal. But Puck…no, he had to find Puck. He was alone, and though he would never admit it, he would be scared. He _had_ to be scared. You couldn't just witness a murder like that, a robbery and not need comfort. He _had_ to need Kurt.

He peeked around the corner once again and, upon seeing no one, crept forward into the length of the store. From here they could make their way down the aisles, hiding at each end. If they were lucky, the robber wouldn't come to the back of the store. If they were lucky, Puck had take refuge somewhere they could get to easily.

It was only logical that Puck would get as far away from the registers as possible…right? Kurt peeked past the Kraft Dinner that was piled on the display, and upon seeing no one, squeaked his way across the linoleum.

So far, so good. But where was everyone? No kids, no mothers, no Puck, no _anyone_.  
Rachel's feet pattered on the floor as they crossed yet another void. Only, this time, instead of stopping Kurt's felt the cold rubber of his Nike's slip on a piece of wrapping.

His foot slid into the aisle and Rachel quickly grabbed onto his coat, keeping him from falling flat on his back. His right hand had grasped out for something to grab on, knocking box after box of Twinkies to the ground. The knowing that they had been heard – or worse, seen – made him sick to the stomach. Stupid f-ing Twinkies.

He slipped and slid until he was able to stand again, and he could feel Rachel's rapid heart beat through the black cotton, her tight hands clutched around his torso. Under his arms and clamping a cold, shaking hand over his mouth.

"Come out!" a deep voice called, and Kurt cringed back from the shelves, wincing as the voice repeated, "Come out or I shoot!"

It was moments like this that Kurt hated. The ones in the movies where the characters could choose. Death, or Death. Give up, or keep your pride. Moments where you knew that you could run, and die. Or stay, and probably die. And for him, those weren't great statistics.

But he was never that great of an athlete. So he chose to stay. Maybe it could, in turn, save Puck. And yet, as he turned the corner, Rachel's hand painfully gripping his elbow, his heart sunk to the gentle calluses of his toes. Gathered around the cash register stood the mother and her children, all painfully white and weeping quietly, three people in what seemed to be the stores uniform, a man in a suit and the lone red-headed shooter.

Oh and also, a tall masculine boy in a white muscle shirt and dark jeans. A leather coat that could only be his draped over the shoulders of the mother, and hairs straying in different direction, but still upright in a Mohawk.

Puck's face dropped as he recognized his friends, he had hoped they snuck out the back. All eyes flicked from the new comers to the psycho, who had turned his pistil to the couple, his other hand flipping to the black duffle bag on the ground.

Kurt inched closer to Puck, all the while watching the little boy. His chubby little fingers were working on a devise that was hidden in his lap. It was only five minutes later when he realized what the boy had done.

The robber snarled and looked up as the bell on the door rang, and red and blue lights filled up the confined area that they had been squished into.

"Willis. We got a problem."

"Yah. You. What the fuck are you doing? Who's in the van?" the robber – Willis – gestured his gun to the windows, and through the rain, Kurt could see an illegally parked blue van, license plates covered with a black material.

"No one. The cops are here."

Willis must have finally seen the lights because he looked up and swore as three cars pulled into the lot, "To the back room, all of you."

They were ushered by the threat of a bullet in their head, and through the plastic drapes, into a room with a table and four chairs.

"Who the fuck called the police?" He swung his gun around, pointing at each victim until they franticly shook their heads. The last person was the little boy, who quickly shook his head and dropped a phone to the ground. "You. Little. Twirp."

By now the mother was on her knees, hands to her face as if not see witness her sons murder, because with each of the three words, Willis inched closer to the boy, finally pressing the cold black metal to the boys temple.

Rachel clutched tightly to Kurts' hand thrown over her eyes and face turned into his shoulder and sobbing uncharacteristically. The only people that moved were the women who should have been in the van, and Puck. Who stepped forward, arms up in surrender; slowly inching closer to the crying boy.

"Dude! He's just a kid!"

Everyone crutched to the ground, hands covered over their ears as the loud blast filled the room. Everyone except Kurt, the killer and the little boy, who all stood with their eyes open in shock and staring at the teen who dropped to the ground, red staining the white of the wife beater, and mouth open in a surprised 'o'.


	3. Three Little Words

**Revolved**

**Chapter Three: Three Little Words**

HEY YALL! Sorry this updates sprat late, I've had a rough week. Also, I re-wrote this like five times because my muse seems to have walked out the door. He's such an ass.

Even more follows and favorites! OMG. *squeals like a little girl* thanks! You are truly the people that put a smile to my face at 5:30 in the morn, and that's saying something!

To my single, most favorite Review! DJTCluva: I love cliffhangers! Aren't they funtabulous? I hope you didn't have to wait to too long. If you did, I am regrettable sorry. And not to put any pressure, but I would love a review on how you think my ending is.

If I owned Glee, I wouldn't really have to write fanfics, would i? I could just make it real.

**You never know how strong you are…until being strong is the only choice you have.**

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Some how he found himself in the exact same situation he was in less than fifteen minutes ago. The only difference was now he _knew_ Puck had been shot, and Rachel was too busy to calm him down.

"Oh my god. Oh _my_ god. _Oh! My! God!_ You shot Puck! Why did you do that? I don't understand. He didn't do anything!"

"He was just trying to help my boy. My boy. Jonathan. Oh my Jonathan!" the woman clutched her children to her shoulders; franticly telling them everything would be alright. Not that the kids had two senses of what was really going on.

He dropped to his knees, not even caring that his Marc Jacobs jeans filled with the sticky liquid and created a wave in the small pool of blood. He placed his shaking, white, cold hands over the wound, heaving as the blood gushed through his fingers and snaked down his delicate wrists.

"Kurt," he glanced through his lashes, looking at the surprisingly pale face, looking quickly away as to not meet the pain filled honey chocolate eyes, "Kurt, look at me," a gentle hand was placed onto his cheek, turning the chin with a light touch. Sure, he could have resisted, but he found himself looking into those eyes. "I'm gonna' be alright. We'll have that BBQ later."

Kurt nodded his head, and the hand went again for his face, only this time it was to wipe away the tears that slowly leaked to his drip off his nose.

"Don't cry. You'll get you're damned sissy tears in my war wound and it'll get infected."

Kurt shook his head, sending the salt water flying from his face. "You're so stupid. It's not a war wound! You were dumb and you got shot for it. And you're getting your blood all over the place," by now he could hardly see the skin of his hands under the dark red. It was a lot of blood, more than any cuts and scrapes than he ever had. Kurt would never admit it, but he was terrified. "You are so stupid, I hate you!"

While their private conversation continued, one of the employees had gotten the staff rooms' first aid kit. Complete with gauze and a band aid. A light hand pressed onto Kurt's shoulder, and he turned to except the gauze. "Here, son, you're going to have to press harder than that. Here, let me…"

The man tried to brush Kurt to the side, but he shook his head. If anyone had to heal Puck, it was him. Instead, he removed his hands, allowing the employee to place the material quickly over the hole.

He returned his hands, pressing harder this time, and Puck inched away. "Ouch. Bitch. That hurt!"

"Oh, suck it up, _sissy_." They shared a quivering smile, but he looked quickly back to the shirt, inspecting the woven threads. All the sudden, the pressure of keeping Puck from bleeding out was too much and he looked around for Rachel.

She was no longer behind him. Kurt looked up and into the dusty red beard of Willis. His back was to the door, and he was staring at Puck with contentment. Like what he did wasn't that bad. Puck's breathing hitched and Kurt pressed firmly against his chest, trying to ignore the fingers that dug painfully into his exposed ankle.

A phone rang through the silence and Willis made a grab for the cell hidden deep in his pocket. Kurt listened carefully, trying, and failing, to make out the voice on the other side. "Diversion. Then we can meet out back. Alright." He clicked the phone shut, glaring around the room and raising the gun, "All right. In exactly ten minutes, the police are going to bust through that door, but I'm not going to be here anymore. None of you leave before then, or I _will_ come and shoot you. Only this time, I won't miss."

Kurt looked up and glared into the ugly face of the killer before he snorted and spun through the door, closing it firmly behind him.

"I hope they catch him."

"Ten _fricken_ minutes."

"Mommy, is the bad guy gone?"

"Kurt? Are you okay?"

Kurt shook himself, forcing his eyes onto Rachel, who was sitting with the little girl cradled in her lap. Kurt nodded his head, moving to rub his nose on his shoulder. After all, he wasn't the one that got shot. He would be fine…Puck on the other hand…

The conversation continued on, stressed and attempting to be casual. Kurt focused on his breathing, and making sure Puck was still alive. It pained him to see the usually tanned skin of his boyfriends to be pale and cold.

The door to the room suddenly burst open, making everyone jump and a couple to scream. Kurt winced and placed his hands back to the body, pressing his hands once again as Puck grunted with pain.

The police officer who stood in the door frame placed his hand to his shoulder, talking quickly into the walkie-talkie. The people around Kurt stood, wincing as abused muscles rejected the sudden use.

A hand was placed on his shoulder, and he looked into the pained eyes of the mother, worry creased onto her forehead. "Thank you. Thank you for my son." Kurt glanced back at Puck, smiling when he raised his hand to fist pound with the little boy.

"I'll get the paramedics and call your parents," Rachel offered, shifting the weight of the little girl and scampering after everyone.

"Be right back with the stretcher, kid."

The door swung shut and they were left alone in the yellow flickering of the lights. Kurt leaned down and placed a feathering light kiss on Pucks cheek, offering a fraction of a smile when Puck turned his head and placed a weak kiss on the dry skin of Kurt's lips.

"Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"If I don't make-"

Kurt shook his head, cutting Puck off and feeling more tears leave his eyes. "Please don't talk like that. They'll be back with the stretcher soon…"

"Kurt, let me talk." Puck's voice was quiet, distant like. And Kurt sniffled up more tears, nodding his head mournfully. He took three painful breaths, face twisting with pain, and Kurt finally realized just how much pain he had been in, putting on a brave face for the others, the kids and the employees.

Puck placed another hand to his cheek, leaving three thin lines of blood down Kurt's face. He tried to speak, but choked and started to cough, a pale line of red liquid rolling over his plump lips and down his cheek to drip off his ear.

"Kurt. I. I-" his chest hitched and he started gasping, hand digging painfully into Kurt's shoes and the other trying to push the hard hands off his chest.

Kurt started to panic, breathe hitching in his chest and hands shaking over the wound, "Puck? Puck!" Puck's eyes rolled and Kurt pressed harder to his chest, shocking the football player and screaming his name, "Noah!"

"I love you."

**The End! I made it *happy dance*. So, there is my three shots. I've been musing out a longer addition, add on to after the shooting and maybe back at school. But. I need input! So please let me know, in the mean time, I have a couple one shots to work on. Ill post again if I plan on making a sequel.**


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